


Out of a Fairy Tale

by Khaelis



Category: Doctor Who, Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: Adventure, Alternate Universe - Fairy Tale, Eventual Romance, F/M, Fluff, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-08-13
Updated: 2018-09-05
Packaged: 2019-06-27 00:22:32
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,795
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15674259
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Khaelis/pseuds/Khaelis
Summary: She's had enough of just being a Queen in a silly fairy tale.She wants adventure, she wants discovery.Who better than this odd character who calls himself the Doctor to travel a universe of books?





	1. Get Out

**Author's Note:**

> Well, hello everyone!
> 
> Back with a new story, a fairy tale AU that I hope you'll enjoy!  
> I've had this idea for so long, I'm glad I could finally write a first chapter for it!
> 
> You know I like prologues, so, this first chapter might be a little obscure - I promise everything will get crystal clear very soon!  
> There will be no angst at all in this, I want to keep it cute and fluffy!
> 
> I hope you'll enjoy this concept that came out of my head more than a year ago!  
> Please let me know what you think, and thanks for reading! :-)

* * *

 

 

_ Wait for the sixth chapter, until you’re alone and invisible. _

 

She threw her ridiculous dress into her wardrobe, tossed her golden crown out through the window, untied her strict bun and wiped the outrageous makeup from her face. She hurried to slip into a pair of rough cotton trousers, shoved her arms into a white shirt and pulled comfortable leather boots on her feet. She was ready. After more than two hundred years, it was time.

 

The large wooden door quietly clicked open onto a dark corridor of stone. She peeked on one side, then on the other, making sure no torch was lurking around. She wasn’t scared of the soldiers wandering the castle, because she knew the castle was deserted. She was scared of the Pages. If they ever found out what she was about to do, she would forever be chained. Erased, even. She wasn’t important to the story of her world, and no one would notice if she disappeared. 

 

She thought she had picked the best moment, the moment when she was but an invisible presence like she had been instructed. Her husband was off to fight a war in some distant country that was never named, the hero was off to fight his own battles in a foreign land that they simply referred to as the Land of the Dragon. In that moment, she was nothing. A word written with black ink lost in the night. 

 

She groped her way through the darkness, fingers following the cold stones to a spiral staircase that led down to the kitchen. Or she thought it was the kitchen - she had never been there, nor in any other part of the castle but the throne room and her bedroom. That told a lot about her life, she believed. Oh, she was tired of that life, and she couldn’t wait to grope her way out of that miserable condition.

 

She walked past a large glass cupboard securing a treasure of lavish dishes, expansive plates and luxurious tea set, past a cooker on which what must have been deer stew was simmering. The cooks mustn't have been far, but she knew she wouldn’t be bothered by any of them. They had never met, they had probably never even heard about her, and she wouldn’t have any trouble convincing them she wasn’t the Queen on the run from her life. She wasn’t even sure they existed. She only heard about them when her husband mentioned them, and she doubted that was enough to breathe life into them. Just phantoms. Like the maids, the butlers, the guards. Just shadows that crept over the walls but had no body or shape.

 

She stepped through the door on the far end of the room and she took a first breath of liberty. She closed her eyes, for just a second, to enjoy the cold wind and the thick smell of rain. She had never known anything else but the heat of the fire, the sound of silence, the smell of stone and perfume. The sensations alone would have been enough to make her life better. She could have stolen one line or two, enjoy them for a few words, a few letters. Surely, out of all the chapters there were in that story, she could pretend to have stumbled upon a couple of sentences without it being considered a crime. But she knew it was to the Pages. A terrible crime. Every place, every character, ever event had to remain where they belonged, lest it would imperil the whole story. 

 

_ Find the horse and head for the forest. _

 

Her ear caught the sound of a neighing horse, and she broke into a fast run towards the stables. She had to cross the courtyard under the bright light of the moon, a deserted expense of pebbles and dead grass. She could only hope the Pages were busy guiding the hero through the chapter and hadn’t started to sift through the whole book all over again. The little she had done was more than enough to change the course of the story, and she was supposed to be mentioned at the very beginning of the second chapter. She was sure her name was already fading. She needed to hurry.

 

She thanked whoever wrote that line when she spotted a beautiful stallion whose reins were tied around a post. It was already saddled, bags of provision hanging on each side of his muscular flanks, hooves impatiently scraping the hay. She patted its soft muzzle to calm its nickering and loosened the knot of the reins.

  
  


“Good boy,” she soothed as she stuck her foot into a stirrup and tightened her hold on the reins. “I need you to help me get out of here, okay?”

  
  


She pushed herself up and across the saddle, wiggling to get into a position that felt comfortable and secure. She knew about the concept of horse, because the animal had been mentioned several times in her scenes. She knew how it was supposed to be ridden, because she had seen the hero triumphantly gallop through the gates on more occasions than she liked to remember - two hundred years, and the Pages went through the story every time it reached the end every month or so. She simply didn’t know how to ride it. She thought she could understand, thank how the author had described her. A Queen who had spent most of her childhood with the son of a butler, committing enough mischief and trouble to develop a curiosity and intelligence few other women her rank possessed. She believed it was that one word, curiosity, that had sparked that desire to leave this world and discover others. She believed it was that one word, intelligence, that had gifted her with the necessary tools to find a way out of her story.

 

She kicked the flanks of the horse with her heels, pulled on the reins to steer it to the left. It simply walked at first, and she had to throw worried glances around to make sure the Pages weren’t on her tail. Her eyes widened at the sight of what she had always believed to be an enchanted castle, an ancient, immense building sitting atop a hill of green and gold that sheltered a hundred souls. But there was nothing enchanted, nor immense about that inform mass of unrefined stones. She could see the faint light oozing out from her bedroom window.  The stained-glass windows that illustrated famous battle scenes belonged to the throne room. The front double door, carved with intricate symbols and obscure writings, the door to the kitchen. That was it. The other rooms must have never been described with enough precision to have a physical presence in the world, she believed. It made her feel better about leaving. There was nothing more for her in that silly story.

 

She kicked harder, the horse broke into a trot that soon turned to a quick gallop towards the neat row of oak trees that marked the edge of the Forest of the Fairies - according to the story, the last of them had died in a war against ogres, but the name had remained. 

 

_ Find the Dwarf Tree and go straight through the forest until you find the Pillar of the Gods. _

  
  


“Dwarf Tree, Dwarf Tree,” she mumbled under her short breath, eyes roaming along the line of trees that blurred and disappeared in the distance. “Easier said than done, Sir.”

  
  


She didn’t even know who had given her those directions. She had just found a letter in the drawer where she kept her crown at night, written by someone who obviously knew about her desire to flee that castle, flee that life. He had signed with a name she remembered hearing once, but he must have just been mentioned in that short chapter that described her childhood into a single paragraph. Not enough to know much more than he must have been a friend to her once, or a character she had spent time with between the lines. The son of the butler, maybe. Or the master-at-arms of the castle. Whoever he was, he had also been looking for a way out - and found it. 

 

After long minutes riding along the edge of the forest, she finally spotted a short tree whose leaves shone with an eerie pale light, tiny red berries dotting the trove of glowing green. That was the first landmark. Her heart started to beat a little faster as she followed the thin path ahead, diving into the darkness even the moonlight couldn’t penetrate. Her steed slowed its quick pace, its hooves ploughing the carpet of dead leaves and ferns scattered on the earth. She had to bow her head to avoid low branches, but she kept a vivacious eye on her surroundings. She felt it. The presence of the Pages, getting closer, falling faster, like a heavy coat of mail weighing down on her shoulders. 

  
  


“There you are,” she whispered when she finally spotted the tall column carved into emerald among the trees. “Then I had to… Follow the river to the left. Right.”

  
  


The hushed rustling of the leaves was drowned into the steady gurgle of the stream and shrill nightbird chirps. She had never realised nature could make such beautiful sounds, could be so loud and alive, but she couldn’t afford to waste a single moment listening to them. Because she heard them, too. Whispers, in the distance, whispers that called her, summoned her, threatened her. They didn’t know where she was yet, but it wouldn’t be long before they would.

 

A thick fog grew the further away she got from the Pillar. Probably because she only knew this place through the letter that had been given to her, only knew about the river and where it was supposed to lead. The horse nickered and blowed, shook his head, then came to an abrupt halt.

  
  


“Oh come on, boy, you can’t let me down now,” she pleaded between her teeth, trying to kick it harder, faster, to spur him on. 

  
  


It refused to move. She had a sudden desire to curse it, but such words were never used in her story and she could only whine in defeat. She dropped to her feet and slapped its rump, before it offered a loud and reproachful snort and strutted back towards where they had come from. She was on her own. Except for the tightening hold of the Pages on her neck. She took a long breath and started to run, feet splashing into the cold water that seeped into her boots and made her soles squish. Only the sound of the river and her instincts guided her. She ran, and ran, and ran. Every minute seemed to stretch longer than the last, every step forward was harder, every glance around she stole was more terrifying. A different kind of darkness had begun to slither through the trunks. It wasn’t night. It was them. 

 

She looked down at her hand and her eyes widened in horror when she saw it was blurred, almost see-through. They were already pulling her back to where she belonged, chapters away from that part of the forest where she wasn’t supposed to be. She tried to quicken her pace and her muscles screamed in protest at the titanesque effort she demanded from them. Her breath came out short, heavy, fast, almost as fast as the beat of her heart trying to break free from her ribcage. The whispers were louder. More oppressive. More insistent. Furious, obstinate. The Pages were there.

  
  


“Don’t pull me back, please, don’t,” she begged past the lump that had settled low in her throat. “Come on, where are you?”

  
  


It felt like she had to slice through the fog that had turned into a sea of white cotton whose edges where steadily soaked with a pitch black ink. The Pages. She couldn’t let them touch her or she would be forever erased from that sad, empty world. She would be forgotten. Replaced by blank spaces throughout the story. Both her hands were disappearing, now, and she was sure her feet, her arms and her legs were, too. She needed to find it. She did.

 

To the right of the river, an opening from which a silver light was emanating appeared. A cave, a simple nook sculpted out of a massive stone covered in moss and withering lilies. According to that letter she had learnt by heart before burning it among the flames of a fire, that was where the Forbidden Gate was hidden. 

 

There was no time to hesitate any longer. She had made her decision so long ago, probably more than a hundred read-throughs, and she wasn’t about to let a sudden fear or doubt take what little was left of her tedious existence. She burst into a sprint, jumped across the river that had thinned down to a quiet stream, and raced as fast as her dying legs would allow towards the source of the light. 

 

She stopped dead in her tracks, just when she reached the entrance. The light was gone. Just impenetrable darkness. She wondered if she had simply dreamt it, lulled by her delirious illusions to escape this dull world and morose life, tricked by her hope to finally be free of the shackles that tied her to her story. She didn’t wonder for long. A wet breeze rolled around her ankle and tightened, pulling so fast and so hard her whole body fell down with a dull thump on the duvet of dried leaves.

  
  


“No, don’t, please, don’t, no!” she repeated through a breathy cry, struggling to wriggle away from the Page. “I don’t want to go back, leave me alone!”

  
  


Her nails scraped through the earth, her boot struggled to find purchase against a few pebbles, her whole body worked to writhe free from its deadly grasp. Terror seeped into her veins like a vicious poison when she noticed her hands had completely disappeared. She was being erased. 

  
  


“No, I won’t, let me go!” she shouted, using the rest of her strength to give the dark shadow a kick.

  
  


It let go, just for a second. A second enough for her body to squirm towards the back of the small cave. She didn’t know why she kept fighting when she was trapped into a cul-de-sac suffused with their fog and their aura, but she knew she refused to be erased without given them a good reason to cross her off her every lines. So, she fought. Kicked and screamed and hauled her whole body forward.

 

Through her eyelids she had tightly shut, she saw a light again. Not silver any longer, but a soft orange that quivered with shapes of yellow. And the clench around her ankle was gone. Their presence was gone.

 

Heart hammering in her chest and heavy pants flowing out from her parted lips, she cracked an eye open. Instead of a black wall lost in a thick mist of darkness, she was faced by a tower of brown that stretched so high up she couldn’t see the end of it. She scrambled to her feet, relieved to see her hands were back to their usual shape and colours. She pressed one against the odd tower, her breath and heartbeat drifting back to their steady rhythm as her natural curiosity took over the fear that had hooked her stomach. It felt warm under her skin, a bit like the neck of the horse she had ridden, minus the hair. Leather, she realised. 

  
  


“Why, hello there!” a merry voice greeted from behind her - and she was quick to twirl on her feet, ready to defend herself once more if needed be.

“Who… Who are you?” she asked, mentally slapping herself for not thinking about bringing some kind of weapon on that adventure.

“Ha, in my book, I was called the Doctor,” he smiled, puffing out his chest as if he were proud of that title. “You?”

  
  


She opened her mouth to answer, then it struck her. 

  
  


“I don’t… I don’t have a name,” she shrugged a bit sheepishly. “In my book, I was just… The Queen.”

“Oh, out of a fairytale of some sort, then?” he laughed, eyeing the tower of leather she had been trying to understand before he had interrupted her. “Well, _ my Queen _ , welcome to the Library!”

 

* * *

 


	2. The Library

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello everyone!
> 
> New chapter for this fairytale AU, and this is where the fluff begins!  
> The concept might still be a bit obscure, but I promis it'll get clearer as the story moves forward!
> 
> I hope you'll enjoy it, thank you for reading!

* * *

 

 

He looked really odd. And he most certainly didn’t look like that one doctor that came to the castle in the eleventh chapter to take care of a wounded knight. No black tunic, no string of vials attached to his waist with a coarse rope, no receding hairline, no black eyes hidden under bushed of grey hair. None of that. Just trousers and some kind of thin coat made of a fabric that must have been ostentatiously expensive given its shine and its deep brown colour striped with blue. A necklace made of silk, too, though she wondered why it was knotted through his shirt - a bizarre shirt with a collar and tiny buttons. Shoes that looked particularly unpractical to ride horses or walk long distances through fields and forests - maybe he had forgotten to put on his proper shoes and left his slippers on?

  
  


“You don’t look like a doctor,” she noted with a suspicious look, taking a step back towards the tower of leather that had appeared when she had left her story.

“I never said I was,” he smiled as shoved his hands into pouches that were somehow part of his trousers. “I said, I’m  _ the  _ Doctor. Just a fancy title, a bit like you.”

“I don’t have a fancy title, I  _ am  _ the Queen. Well, I was anyway.”

“The Queen, eh?” he raised an eyebrow, a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips.

“Do you think I’m joking?”

“Of course not. So, what important and meaningful stuff did you do in your story? Make big decisions for the royal state, go on big adventures, help that Geralt on his quest, maybe?”

“Geralt?” she frowned, quite sure she had heard that name before but unable to remember where and when.

“The knight from your story,” he enlightened her, pointing his chin at the golden letters carved into the leather. “See, you don’t even know how the hero is called. What kind of Queen doesn’t know the name of her most important subject? What kind of Queen doesn’t know their own name?”

“You don’t know your name either, so what?” she huffed as she crossed her arms across her chest in defiance.

“So, just a fancy title. You do have that insufferable air of superiority about you, though. That won’t get you very far in here, let me tell you. Anyway, things to do, books to visit and all that. Maybe I’ll see you later. Good luck,  _ my Queen _ .”

  
  


She opened her mouth to retort to his acid sarcasm, but he was already walking away in those odd shoes that squeaked on the wood flooring. Fine, she didn’t need any kind of doctor, fancy title or not, to find her way through this Library, as he had called it. She had already escaped her story, surely it couldn’t be much harder to find a new one and settle in another one. She just needed to find the right book.

 

She took a few shy steps away from the tower of leather, and her eyes wandered over her surroundings. She had a book in her bedroom, that was always opened on her bedside table. A thick grimoire with a cover of tightly woven wool, hundreds of pages that were all blank, given the author of her story hadn’t deemed necessary to mention what it was about. It didn’t matter. She knew what a book looked like. Except in this place that probably came out of a demented mind, every single column of leather, parchment and cotton stood higher than the tallest wall of her castle. It made no sense. How was she supposed to find a nice page about the wonderful world she had always dreamt of if she couldn’t get any of those books open?

 

And then, she realized something else. She knew stories had titles, books were about words, she knew she had just been a word herself not so long ago. But she looked at all those giant books standing around her like terrifying prison bars and all she could see on them were meaningless shapes she was sure were meant to be letters. The Doctor, this mad man, he had read the title of her book, he had deciphered the name of Geralt. She looked back at the spine of her own book, hoping to read the same name, hoping to understand what was written. She only saw more of those ridiculous shapes neatly etched into the leather with golden powder that had been scraped off in some places. How was she supposed to find the book of her dreams if she couldn’t figure out which one held the story she desperately longed for?

 

Her eyes widened in fear at the realization and her heart started to beat erratically against her chest. She swallowed hard past the lump of anxiety that had sprouted low in her throat, then started to walk along the row of monstrous books. Slowly, at first, as she tried to read each and single title without being able to make sense of any of them. Then faster, and faster, and faster, until she was running, eyes nervously going from one book to the other, roaming around the immensity of the Library without ever hooking into a word or a letter that bore any meaning. 

 

Her boots slid on the wood as she came to an abrupt stop at the corner of this cliff she would understand only later was just a simple bookshelf, and a gasp threatened to make her lungs tear and burst. She was both awed and terrified by the sight. A whole landscape, a whole world of books opened before her eyes. Thousands, maybe millions of them, piled up in small mountains, aligned on several layers of horizons that had no end and spread over miles and miles until her eyes couldn’t make out their edges. So many books. So many stories. So many possibilities to end up in the middle of a war, a catastrophe, a world plagued with vile characters and horrible events - and that was if she ever found a way to get into any of them. She was lost. Lost in a world that had too many doors she couldn’t open.

 

She breathed out a sigh, ignored the tears that started to roll down her reddened cheeks, and sat on the edge of the wood cliff. She stared at her feet dangling over the bottomless pit, wondering where the mad man had gone. He probably was far away already. On the other side of the pit, maybe, or in another book living the adventure she would never get to experience. It had been a bad decision to leave her story. It might have been dull and monotonous, but at least it was safe. She had escaped a nightmare only to run into a Hell.

 

She cried, like she had cried so many times when the Pages weren’t looking, in her luxurious bed with satin sheets and silk-covered duvets. Her shoulders shook with quiet sobs, her fingers curled around the coarse material of her trousers, her eyes closed over her tears.

  
  


“Are you coming or what?”

  
  


She jumped to her feet at the sound of that voice and hurried to wipe the tears away from face. 

  
  


“Where are you?” she asked with a voice still shaken with her cries but laced with relief.

“One shelf down, right under you.”

  
  


She dropped to her knees and carefully peeked down, only to see that Doctor looking up at her, one hand reaching out like an invitation.

  
  


“How am I supposed to get down there?”

“Ah, quite right,” he chuckled, scratching the back of his head in embarrassment. “Move away, I’m coming to get you.”

“How?” she frowned, unable to see how he had even reached that shelf in the first place, even less so how he would get back up.

“You just watch and learn, my Queen,” he grinned as he started to unroll what seemed to be a very long rope from around his waist, at the end of which an odd contraption was attached. “Where’s the splinter?”

“The what?”

“The splinter, the bit of wood that’s sticking out from the shelf. I can never remember where that one is. Just show me with your foot, will you?”

  
  


She looked around without really knowing what she was looking for, until she spotted a long and thick piece of the floor that had been partially ripped off.

  
  


“Here,” she called out, sticking out her leg to indicate its location.

“Thank you, now move. I don’t want to stab your feet by accident.”

  
  


Unwilling to risk losing either of her feet or the second chance he was offering, she stepped back and waited, anxiously nibbling her lower lip. It was sudden. A big spider made of metal hooked into the splinter with its curled legs, and it groaned lightly when he gave his rope a few experimental tugs.

  
  


“Okay, coming up now,” he told her as he grabbed the rope more firmly and started to pull himself up.

“That doesn’t look quite safe,” she pointed out, though she was aware he must have done it quite a lot of times before given the ease with which he was climbing.

  
  


He only grunted through his smile, shook his head, and climbed the remaining distance in a matter of seconds, slithering his way up like a snake up the trunk of tree. His hands finally grabbed the edge of the cliff, and he was quick to pull himself up and smooth the creases on his odd coat.

  
  


“Hello again,” he greeted with a grin and a gesture of his fingers she had never seen before. “How’s  _ your Majesty _ doing?”

  
  


She didn’t miss the hint of renewed irony in his words, but there also was a lightheartedness that hadn’t been there when he had left. She would need to pick her words carefully if she didn’t want to lose the semblance of hope he was giving her.

  
  


“I’m… Quite alright, thank you,” she shrugged - lost and desperate might have been better words, but she refused to have him think he was her only salvation. “What’s this thing?”

  
  


She purposefully looked down at the metal spider hooked into the splinter and its mulitcoloured rope, and he puffed out his chest in pride.

  
  


“Part of my Tardis, of course,” he said, giving the spider a quick kick with the tip of his odd shoe. “Truly awesome rides, Doctor’s invention system. I mean, that one isn’t a  _ ride _ , per se, just a grappling hook I made with a few paperclips and threads I got on the cat’s bed, but it’s pretty cool isn’t it?”

  
  


She gaped at him as if he had suddenly started to speak another language - while she understood the obvious purpose of such a tool, she had never heard the words  _ paperclips  _ and  _ awesome  _ and  _ grappling _ . He noticed her confused look, stared at her for a moment, then his eyes lit up with a spark of understanding.

  
  


“Medieval fairytale, right,” he chuckled with a snap of his fingers and a light nod. “Don’t worry, you’ll learn fast enough. So, what do you want to know?”

“Why did you come back for me?” she simply asked, watching as he ran a hand through his wild mane he must have had sculpted with honey, or any other sticky substance. 

“Because it’s pretty hard to find your way around here when you’re not used to it, and I figured you might have needed some help. I can always go back if you don’t want it, though. Don’t want to bother a Queen with chivalrous intentions.”

“No, please, don’t go,” she pleaded, just a tad more desperate than she intended to. “I mean… You’re right. I’m lost, and I… I would like your help, if you don’t mind.”

“Alright, then let’s start with the rules,” he began - and he lifted up an index he slapped over his thumb. “One, and I know this is going to be hard for a Queen, but do everything as I say. No  _ buts _ , no debate, no  _ can’ts _ . Is that clear, m’Lady?” 

  
  


She fought back the urge she had to retort that no Queen worthy of the title received orders, and just watched as he walked around her to gauge her appearance with a critical eye.

  
  


“So, clear?” he repeated his question after a satisfied click of his tongue.

“Yes, okay. Do as you say, Doctor.”

“Good. Then hop on my back and we’ll get going. This part of the Library isn’t fun enough, what you need is adventure.”

  
  


He bent forward and spread his arms, looking at her above his shoulder, as if he dared her to go against his first order. She hesitated for a moment, not really trusting this lanky body to hold her weight, not really trusting this odd man and his intentions. But she had nothing to lose. Either she followed him, or she stayed behind and get lost forever in the meandres of those books. 

 

He encouraged her with a smile, she took a deep breath and jumped over his back, quick to roll her legs around his waist and her arms around his neck. He wavered on his feet a little, hurried to hook his arms under her knees to shove her up and readjust her position.

  
  


“You, my Queen, have indulged in far too many royal cakes,” he grunted through a giggle, hissing when she slapped his chest and kicked his knees with her heels.

“I never ate anything but pears, Doctor,” she chastised - though her scowl quickly turned to a worried frown as he picked up the rope and got dangerously close to the edge. “I had to stay in my room, with that bowl of pears, every time there was a banquet or a dinner. It was horrible.”

“I’ll get you something better to eat, if you want. Now hang tight, Queenie, we’re going down.”

  
  


She closed her eyes forcefully and sucked in a breath when she felt him lean back, push on his feet and send their bodies hanging in the air. She hid her face in the crook of his shoulder, and if it weren’t for the fear clinging to her stomach she would have made a comment or two about the smell that oozed from his skin - a bittersweet smell she almost wanted to taste, but she believed licking his neck wouldn’t be much wise. Instead, she just tightened her hold on his body and prayed they wouldn’t free-fall into the void as fast as her heart was in her chest. Slowly, down they went, each shake echoing in her body as he moved enough to believe his grapple was giving up or his rope tearing up to pieces under their combined weight. A shake harder than the others had her stiffen, arms cinching his neck and chest moulding against his back, and a scream would have pierced his ears if her throat wasn’t so constricted. 

 

She waited for the fall, she waited for the pain or the death that would inevitable follow when they crashed down at the bottom of the pit. But nothing happened, even after a long minute. Just silence broken by her heavy breath, just the Doctor still holding her - no, not really holding, just trying to wiggle his shoulders so she would let him go.

  
  


“You can stop choking me, now,” he struggled to say, voice a whistling breath, long fingers pulling on her wrists. “Rule number two, no killing me unless you have good reasons to.”

“Oh God, I’m sorry, Doctor, I didn’t mean to,” she apologized as she hurried to unhook her body from his and stumbled back towards the row of books. “I thought we were falling, I…”

“That’s why you need to keep your eyes open, my Queen. Always be aware of your surroundings, you can never know what’s coming.”

“Personal experience?”

“Almost got eaten by the cat once,” he told her, deftly waving the rope around and up to try and detach it from the splinter. “Had to run into a hole that happened to be a rat’s nest.”

“And the rat didn’t try to eat you, too?”

“Oh no, he’s my friend,” he smiled, just as the hook finally gave up and fell down a his feet with a dull clink. “Part of my Tardis, actually, no faster way to travel the ground floor.”

“Of course, you’d be the kind to ride rats,” she sighed under her breath, too quiet for his ears to pick it up.

  
  


He rolled his long rope around his waist, threw his hand-made hook across his shoulder and turned to face her.

  
  


“So, what do you want to see, Queenie?”

“I… I don’t know. All I’ve ever known is my story, I don’t even know what else exists.”

“Right,” he mumbled into his palm, throwing glances around to find a book that could be a nice first experience but finding none. “Well, you know what, we’ll just make a quick stop at my house first, because there actually are a hundred and fifty-two more rules I need to talk to you about before we visit any book.”

“You have a home here?”

“Well, it’s more of a personal motel than a home, to be honest. I spend most of my time in books, I usually don’t linger much around here. The Library is more like a… Corridor, you know. One big corridor with lots and lots of doors you can open. No one likes to settle down in  _ corridors _ .”

“What’s a  _ motel _ ?”

“It’s a bedroom you pay for to spend the night,” he started to explain, picking words he knew she would understand. “Except I don’t pay for it, ‘cause it’s mine. And I never spend the night. You know what, it’s not a motel, it’s just a bedroom. Even got a kettle and nice mugs, I’ll make us some tea.”

“What’s a kettle? And mugs?”

“They’re… Uh, just remind me that we  _ really  _ need to visit a dictionary before we do anything else.”

“What’s a dictionary?”

  
  


He broke into a loud laugh that had a blush light her cheeks, but he hurried to take her hand in his in gente reassurance and tugged on it to lead her along the row of books. 

 

* * *

 


End file.
